The Captain
by CaptainFrosty
Summary: The Highwayman poem, Captain Swan style.


The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees.

The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.

The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,

And the Captain came riding—

Riding—riding—

The Captain came riding, up to the old castle doors.

He'd a mop of dark hair on his forehead, a necklace a-twinkle at his chin,

A vest of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin.

They fitted with never a wrinkle. His boots were up to the thigh.

And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,

His pistol butts a-twinkle,

His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark castle-yard.

He tapped with his hook on the stones, but all was locked and barred.

He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there

But the royal green-eyed daughter,

Emma, the royal daughter,

Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long blonde hair.

And dark in the dark old castle-yard a stable-wicket creaked

Where Neal the Ostler listened. His face was white and peaked.

His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,

But he loved the royal daughter,

The royal red-lipped daughter.

Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the pirate say—

"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize to-night,

But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;

Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,

Then look for me by moonlight,

Watch for me by moonlight,

I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."

He rose upright in the stirrups. He scarce could reach her hand,

But she loosened her hair in the casement. His face burnt like a brand

As the blonde cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;

And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,

(O, sweet blonde waves in the moonlight!)

Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the west.

He did not come in the dawning. He did not come at noon;

And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise of the moon,

When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,

A red-coat troop came marching—

Marching—marching—

King George's men came marching, up to the old castle-door.

They said no word to the unconscious guards. They drank their ale instead.

But they gagged his daughter, and bound her, to the foot of her narrow bed.

Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!

There was death at every window;

And hell at one dark window;

For Emma could see, through her casement, the road that _he_ would ride.

They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest.

They had bound a musket beside her, with the muzzle beneath her breast!

"Now, keep good watch!" and they kissed her. She heard the doomed man say—

 _Look for me by moonlight;_

 _Watch for me by moonlight;_

 _I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!_

She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!

She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!

They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years

Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,

Cold, on the stroke of midnight,

The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!

The tip of one finger touched it. She strove no more for the rest.

Up, she stood up to attention, with the muzzle beneath her breast.

She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;

For the road lay bare in the moonlight;

Blank and bare in the moonlight;

And the blood of her veins, in the moonlight, throbbed to her love's refrain.

 _Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot!_ Had they heard it? The horsehoofs ringing clear;

 _Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot,_ in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear?

Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,

The Captain came riding—

Riding—riding—

The red coats looked to their priming! She stood up, straight and still.

 _Tlot-tlot_ , in the frosty silence! _Tlot-tlot_ , in the echoing night!

Nearer he came and nearer. Her face was like a light.

Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,

Then her finger moved in the moonlight,

Her musket shattered the moonlight,

Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him—with her death.

He turned. He spurred to the west; he did not know who stood

Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own blood!

Not till the dawn he heard it, and his face grew grey to hear

How Emma, the royal daughter,

The royal green-eyed daughter,

Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,

With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high.

Blood red were his spurs in the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet vest;

When they shot him down on the highway,

Down like a dog on the highway,

And he lay in his blood on the highway, with a twinkling necklace at his chest.

. . .

 _And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,_

 _When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,_

 _When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,_

 _A Captain comes riding—_

 _Riding—riding—_

 _A Captain comes riding, up to the old castle-door._

 _Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark castle-yard._

 _He taps with his hook on the stones, but all is locked and barred._

 _He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there_

 _But the royal green-eyed daughter,_

 _Emma, the royal daughter,_

 _Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long blonde hair._


End file.
